


Family

by Street_Fan



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017), S.W.A.T. - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Street_Fan/pseuds/Street_Fan
Summary: Jim Street never really had a family… until now.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 92





	Family

The wind picked up the golden autumn leaves, tossed them around and scattered them across the road in front of him. The chilly weather made Street feel grateful he’d chosen to wear a warm leather jacket. Finally reaching his destination, he pulled up his bike by the curb and straightened his aching back. Cutting the engine, Street took off his black helmet and stared at it; saw his own face reflected in the shiny visor. He stayed seated for a while, still contemplating whether he should proceed with this - even after driving more than 300 miles on his bike to get there.

Street glanced at the church beside him. The large steeples with its gothic spires loomed above him and made him feel small. To be honest, the whole situation made him feel as small as the kid he had once been.

He secured the helmet on his bike, and finally stepped away from it. He took a deep breath, burying his shaky hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. Why his hands always shook when he was emotionally unstable, Street would never know. However, considering all the things he’d gone through in his life, he guessed it was no wonder his body reacted once in a while. And he did spend an awfully lot of time suppressing his emotions just to get by every day.

Street felt cold – despite his leather jacket keeping him warm – and he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. He was nervous as hell. A little frightened too, to be honest, although he hated to admit it to himself.

He walked past the church and continued down the leaf-covered path leading to the graveyard. The last time he’d attended a funeral, it had been Nate’s, and the memory of it made a lump form in Street’s throat. The loss of his foster brother still hurt and, no matter what people kept telling him, Street hadn’t stopped feeling like it was his fault Nate was gone. If he’d just… no, he couldn’t go there. Not now. If he had any hopes of getting through this, then he couldn’t think about Nate too.

A rumbling sound interrupted his thoughts, and Street looked up at the dark clouds covering the sky. _Just my luck_ , he thought as a few drops of rain hit his face. It kinda reflected his current mood.

Street stopped abruptly when he saw them; a circle of black-clad people by a newly dug grave. Some of them had, wisely, brought umbrellas to protect them from the unsteady weather. Most of them had their backs turned towards him, so Street couldn’t tell precisely who they were. But he did, however, still recognize some faces. One of them was his uncle Ralph. Last time Street had seen his uncle had been when he’d shown up in L.A. to reclaim a family necklace from Street’s mom. Before that, Street hadn’t seen his uncle in twenty years. Not since his mom had killed his dad, and the entire family had turned their backs on him. The irony of him looking at the backs of the same people right now wasn’t lost on Street.

He wanted to proceed forward and join his biological family but at the same time dreaded it. Maybe that was the reason why his feet refused to respond to his command but just stayed glued to the spot.

 _Come on_ , he thought. _You’ve come this far, Jim. Why stop now?_

Street jumped when someone suddenly touched his shoulder. He spun around – then gaped when he saw the five people standing in front of him.

“What… What are you doing here?” Street asked.

“Luca told us you planned to drive to Arizona to attend your aunt’s funeral.” Chris answered. “Sorry about your loss, by the way. You didn’t tell me she’d passed.”

Street cut his eyes at Luca who shrugged unapologetically.

“What? Was it supposed to be a secret?” His roommate asked.

“No, not really. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re all here.” Street said. “It’s Thanksgiving. You are supposed to spend it at home with your families.”

“Street.” Hondo said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Street’s shoulder. The touch felt strangely comforting. “There’s plenty of time to make it back to Thanksgiving dinner. You’re our family too, kid, and we’re not gonna let you face them alone.“

Hondo nodded towards the people at the funeral.

“Do they know you’re here?” He asked.

Street shook his head.

“They didn’t ask me to be here either.” He said, voice alarmingly rough so he cleared his throat. “I’m not even sure they want me to be here.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Deacon asked. “You have as much right to be here as any of them have.”

“It’s… complicated.” Street responded and glanced towards the funeral once again. “Look, you don’t have to walk me there. I can handle it on my own.”

“We know. But you don’t have to, Street. When do you realize you don’t have to go through anything on your own anymore?” Chris asked mildly.

“Yeah, we’re here to back you up. And not just when we’re at work, you know.” Tan chipped in.

Street looked at the earnest faces of his teammates and rubbed the back of his neck. He then nodded in acceptance, more than a little touched by their loving words.

“Come on.” Luca threw an arm around Street’s shoulders and started walking them towards the memorial. “Let’s get this over with.”

As they got closer, Street could hear the vicar speak about his aunt Beth, and it occurred to him that he knew next to nothing about his aunt’s life and the kind of person she’d been. He could only remember having met her a couple of times as a kid. Street’s parents hadn’t been great supporters of family gatherings, and there had rarely been visitors at their house.

Even though they stood a little back from the crowd, the presence of the six new arrivals didn’t go by unnoticed. Street saw more than a few turned heads and heard muttered conversation – some probably wondering who had joined them, but a few obviously recognized him. Street didn’t know what was worst.

He caught his uncle Ralph looking at him and made eye contact with the man. Street couldn’t tell what his uncle felt about him being there. His expression was unreadable. The intense look, however, make Street feel uncomfortable and he had to look away. Beside him, Chris reached out and gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“In the Name of God, the merciful Father, we commit the body of Elizabeth Margaret Street to the peace of the grave.” The priest picked up a handful of earth and let it fall onto the coffin. “From dust you came, to dust you shall return.”

The sounds of sniffling and sobbing caught Street’s ears, in between the drumming of heavy rain on the umbrellas. Even though he hardly knew the woman, Street still felt strangely emotional as the coffin was lowered into the ground, and the mourners began to say their farewells.  
An old lady in a wheelchair sobbed loudly and repeatedly dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She was wheeled away from the grave by a small man with a huge moustache but as they were about to pass by Street and his teammates, the old woman suddenly stared at him. What little color she'd had in her cheeks suddenly vanished.

“E-Eddie!” She cried out and pointed a shaky finger at Street. “It’s Eddie!”

Street paled and his heart sank. He had known he’d had some resemblance to his deceased father. His mom had called him Eddie too one time, but she'd been high as a kite and Street hadn't know what to make of it. So hearing it now was a shock to him. Especially since Street didn’t want to be compared to the man he’d hated so much.

“N-no. Sorry, ma’am but…”

“It’s okay, Ma.” Uncle Ralph suddenly appeared, crouched beside the wheelchair, and gently took her hands in his. “Eddie’s dead, remember? This is… this is your grandson, Jimmy. Eddie’s boy. It’s Jimmy, Ma.”

 _Eddie’s boy_. The words made Street feel cold inside. He now recognized the old woman as his Grandma Jeanie, although there was barely anything left of the grandma Street remembered. This woman looked thin and fragile and, like with everyone else in his birth family, he hadn’t seen her in twenty years. Like the rest of them, she hadn’t been there for him.

“My Eddie.” The woman sobbed and buried her head in her hands. “Gone, just like my little Beth.”

Uncle Ralph motioned for moustache-man to take Grandma Jeanie away, before he turned to look at Street.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here, Jimmy.” Uncle Ralph said. “You weren’t at your father’s memorial.”

“With good reason.” Luca said behind him before Street had a chance to respond.

His uncle didn’t look very pleased with Luca’s comment, but he didn’t say anything. He just eyed Street’s teammates warily before making eye contact with Street again.

“Look…” Ralph said to Street. “Can we talk for a second? Alone.”

He emphasized the ‘ _alone_ ’.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Chris said with determination, and the protectiveness radiating from her almost made Street smile.

“It’s okay, Chris. I’ll be right back.” Street assured, although Chris nor the rest of his team looked happy about it.

He and his uncle stepped a bit away from the others. By now, the rain was getting heavier and Street knew it was only gonna be a matter of time before they were soaked. His uncle didn’t seem to mind the rain though.

“They’re buried next to each other, you know?” Uncle Ralph said, and pointed towards Aunt Beth’s grave.

Street’s eyes followed the indicated direction, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the name on the tombstone next to the grave.

“I bet you didn’t know your father was buried here in Phoenix.” Uncle Ralph continued. “As I told you back in L.A., there are two sides of every story. Your mom was just as bad as your dad was.”

“No. She wasn’t.” Street denied, shaking his head.

“Jimmy…” His uncle began, but Street cut him off.

“I know my mom is no angel. Believe me, I do. But my father was an abusive bastard and he deserved what happened to him.”

“You don’t mean that.” Uncle Ralph looked incredulously at Street. “How can you say that about your own father? About my brother?”

“Your brother was a drunk who should have been locked away for domestic violence long before he died. You know what he did to my mom.” Street said, anger boiling just beneath the surface. “You know what he did to me too.”

“Jimmy, I don’t…”

“You _saw_ the bruises!” Street shouted through the rain. He knew they had an audience, but he didn’t care. “You could have helped me! You could have turned him in, or taken me away, but you didn’t. You just ignored it.”

Ralph didn’t say anything, but Street could see the remorse on his face, and it just ignited his anger.

“He broke my arm three times, Uncle Ralph! _Three_! He beat the crap out of me – one time so bad that I had to be hospitalized for a week!” Street felt the tears prick his eyes. “You could have stopped it! You could have done something! You could at least have taken me in when my dad died and my mom went to prison, so I didn’t have to go through the foster care system, but you didn’t! None of you did! What kind of family _are_ you?”

His voice broke and he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. They spilled over and rolled down his cheeks – mixing with the wetness of the rain on his face.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Jimmy. I really am.” Uncle Ralph apologized, and Street noticed the quiver of his lips. “I wish I could go back and make different choices. I really do.”

“But you can’t.”

The words hung between them, and Street suddenly felt hollow inside. He’d wanted to say these words to his uncle for twenty years and, now that he had, it didn’t make him feel any better. Just the contrary.

“Street.”

He turned his head and saw his entire team looking at him with sad expressions on their faces. Behind them, a few remaining family members stared at him as well – some looking shocked, some looking regretful.

It was all too much, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. Before anyone could say anything to him, Street turned around and walked away. His cheeks burned with shame. He could hear someone calling his name, but he didn’t stop.

His friends had known about the domestic violence that had happened in his house when he’d been a kid; they’d read his file, after all. But they hadn’t known what Street’s dad had done to him, and he’d never told them. Sure, they’d probably guessed that his dad hadn’t treated him well, but none of them had known the extent of his dad’s abuse. They still didn't know even half it. But now that they knew some of it, Street felt weak and he feared his teammates would look at him differently.

Street was completely soaked and shivering by the time he reached his motorbike. His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely pull the keys from his pocket. He was about to grab his helmet when someone grabbed his jacket and spun him around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A visibly upset Luca asked him.

His hard expression softened when he saw Street’s face, and Street angrily wiped at the tears he’d failed to stop. He brushed off Luca’s hold of his jacket.

“I just… I need to be alone right now, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay!” Chris exclaimed. “Don’t turn your back on us, Street. We’re here for you.”

“Chris is right. We all got here to back you up, kid, and we’re not leaving without you.” Hondo said.

“We heard what you told your uncle.” Tan said with a sympathic look. “I’m sorry, man. Hell, I knew your dad was an asshole. I just never knew what he’d done to you.”

“It doesn’t change anything though. No matter what happened to you in the past, you’re still a great cop and one heck of a guy! Despite the crap you’ve gone through, you still turned out good.” Hondo said and patted his back. “It took a lot of courage to face your family after all these years. We’re proud of you, kid.”

Street tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. He'd wanted to be alone, but the kind words from his friends were slowly getting through to him. However, it was Deacon who ended up breaking through the last of Street’s defensive walls. The experienced SWAT sergeant stepped forward, put his hand on the back of Street’s neck and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Those people back there, your uncle… they might be your family by blood, but they’ve never acted like it. They don’t deserve you in their lives. We’re your family now, okay? You’ve earned a spot in our SWAT family, and you never have to worry about being alone again.”

Deacon pulled him into his arms before he could resist, and Street melted into the embrace. With Deacon’s protective arms around him, Street thought about how lucky Deacon’s kids were; they had a great dad. Street wished he could have had a father like Deacon instead of the bastard that ruined his childhood.

“Me too, kid.” Deacon whispered, and Street realized he’d said that part out loud.

The rest of his team joined in on a group hug that turned into laugher when everyone was squeezing each other too hard – and they quickly let each other go when Luca announced they would smell the tacos he’d eaten for lunch if they continued to squeeze each other for much longer.

Street wiped away the tear streaks on his face and sent his team… no, his _family_ a soft smile.

“Thanks, you guys. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” Luca said. “Now come on. If we leave now, we can make it back just in time for Thanksgiving dinner at my dad’s. He’s a terrible cook, but my brother Terry does a decent job with the turkey. And since Molly’s out of town, I know you don’t have other plans.”

“I’m invited too.” Chris smiled. “My uncle Sarzo had to work, so me and my niece are coming.”

As they rambled on, something finally settled inside Street and he realized he didn’t feel hollow anymore. He finally had a real family.


End file.
